


A Song of Springtime

by misskayeedee



Series: Stories of the Song [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ALL the feels!, Almost everyone died in the war, Also Jamie and Sandor are just off hunting, But it's super hopeful!, F/M, Family Feels, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jon and Dany too, Light Angst, Lots of hope!, Post-Series, Sansa Misses Her Family, it's kinda sad., realistic ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 05:51:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12227040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskayeedee/pseuds/misskayeedee
Summary: After the end of the War, much has been lost.However, little joys and peace are still to be found.Sansa enjoys an afternoon chasing after a Stark and a Targaryen.A hopeful post-ending scene to Game of Thrones.





	A Song of Springtime

Their small feet clattered against the flagstone floors of the Keep, and Sansa hurried after them, skirts flying.

The grounds of the Red Keep were quiet, and mostly empty. Many had chosen to flee further south to Dorne and the Reach, where the fingers of Winter barely brushed the countryside, and food was more plentiful.

Sansa couldn’t find it in herself to mind the loneliness of the Red Keep, for it was of a different sort, and she found peace in spending time with her family and the other members of the small council.

“Slow down, Robb!” She admonished her son, but his cousin was no better at behaving after midday meal, and it took her longer than she had anticipated to catch up with them.

Sansa found them by the largest fountain in the gardens, Robb laughing while the Prince made faces and gamboled about. She couldn’t help but smile at her good fortune as she watched them. That she had been able to find such joy and lightheartedness after the Long Night was nothing short of a miracle.

“I am the Dragon King!” The Prince roared in a silly voice, charging at Robb and flapping his long black cloak behind him like wings. He chased Robb around the fountains, slowing his pace to keep Robb in the lead.

As they played, Sansa considered the Prince.

He was far more lighthearted and rambunctious than either of his parents had been while they had lived, but something had to be said for how differently he was being raised.

Love and acceptance, and nothing to hide from. No harsh eyes or judgement.

The Prince was called Nightborn and Lightbringer, and when Sansa brought him through Kings Landing, the empty streets began to fill with the minor amount of smallfolk still in the city.

They asked to see his eyes or touch his small hand, and listened in crowds as he sang for them.

A particularly loud shriek of laughter dragged Sansa back from her musings.

Robb, only six and delighting in the attention of his older cousin, ran for cover when the Prince began to gain on him. Robb’s foot caught in a lifted stone in the walk way, and he tripped, slicing his hand on the sharp edge of the fountain’s ledge.

Everything stopped, and Sansa and the Prince watched for Robb’s reaction.

Blood began to run down his wrist while he sat, shocked, looking at his hand.

Looking exceedingly strong and very much like his father, Robb jumped up and walked calmly to his mother before presenting the bloody mess for her inspection. His lower lip barely trembled.

The Prince approached and clapped a hand on Robb’s shoulder in praise.

“Very brave, Stark,” the nine-year-old said seriously, and for a moment Sansa was far away; listening to her brothers bicker and banter before they left Winterfell for the Wall and the War and death.

She pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it to her son’s hand, craning her neck in search of whichever Kingsguard was nearest.

Podrick appeared from behind a budding rose tree and she smiled.

“Fetch Sam, if you please, Pod. My son has acquired another trophy to show his father.”

Robb flushed red at this, and the Prince elbowed him good-naturedly.

“Milady,” Pod replied, bowing slightly.

As he turned to leave, he shot the boys a quick wink that had them giggling. Sansa watched Pod’s golden armor sparkle in the weak Spring sunshine as he hurried away to the Maester’s chamber.

The bleeding had mostly stopped, but Sansa could see the cut would still need tending, so she steered her son to a stone bench to wait.

They watched peacefully as the Prince continued to play, jumping up and down from the ledge of the fountain, and becoming more and more daring with each hop. He brandished an invisible sword against imaginary foes, and his graceful sweeps tugged him closer to falling with each parry and thrust.

“Come, my Dragon,” Sansa eventually called to him when he barely escaped a harsh tumble. “I’ll tell you a story while we wait for Sam.”

This immediately caught the Prince’s attention, and he sprinted over to his Aunt, planting himself in the dirt at her feet.

“Now then,” Sansa sighed as Robb climbed fully into her lap. “What story to tell…”

Sansa had told them many stories.

Stories of Lions that turned inward and attacked themselves until only two sad brothers were left licking their wounds and picking up their Kingdom.

Stories of a Mockingbird that flew North to a den of Wolves and froze in the Winter chill.

And stories of a young Wolf King that was betrayed by Twins and a Leech, and shed his pelt to run with the Gods forever more.

The boys stared at her while she chose, looking as much like brothers as cousins. Both had the look of the North, with dark hair and pale skin.

Only their eyes could tell them apart.

Sansa reached down to brush the Prince’s unruly mop of black curls back, and his lavender eyes peeked up at her.

And she decided.

“This story,” she began softly. “Is about a love so strong that it survived Winter, War, and even death.”

Already enraptured, the Prince lurched forward to rest his chin on her knee.

“A love between a woman so fierce and compassionate as to sacrifice what she held most dear to save those in her care,” Sansa continued, and wrapped her arm around Robb as he leaned into her shoulder.

“And a man,” she started, glancing at the Prince. He looked so much like his father, that she had to swallow past a lump in her throat. Burning started in her eyes, and she coughed delicately into her hand in a desperate attempt to pull them back.

“Aunt Sansa?” The Prince asked, and reached to brush her cheek with his small hand. It was wet with her tears. She chuckled softly, kissing his fingertips before he could pull them away.

“A man,” she began again, stronger. “So honorable and brave, as to look destiny in the face without flinching from his fate.”

For this moment in time, the boys were quiet and still, and Sansa took the time to glance around the gardens. The Roses were gone, and she felt sadness that they weren’t there to enjoy the fresh Spring flowers blowing softly in the wind.

“A Dragon and a Wolf that fell in love.”

The Prince abruptly sat back, his eyes wide and excited.

“Really?” He breathed, awestruck. “You’re finally going to tell me what happened to them? How they met?”

Sansa smiled sadly at him.

“How they lived, how they met, how they died, and how they saved us all.”

The Prince flopped back at the weight of her words. He looked at Robb, who shrugged, as if to encourage him to discover all that he could.

But the Prince paused, and thought deeply, biting his lip.

“Tyrion and Varys won’t like this,” he said slowly. “That you’re going to tell me without their help.”

“Well,” Sansa said, choosing her words carefully. She had seen what could become of a prince with no respect or control. “Don’t you think you deserve to know why you will be King over anyone else?”

The Prince considered this, and Sansa laughed.

“You are so like your father when you look like that,” she said, and the Prince gifted her with an unsure smile. He approached her again, moving softly as if approaching a wild animal, before once again resting his chin on her knee. He reached up to lace his fingers with her free hand, and she held it tightly.

“After all,” she continued, matter of fact. “This story is just as much yours as it is theirs, Prince Jaeherys.”

A slight pink flush graced the Prince’s cheeks, and Sansa lifted their joined hands to kiss them.

“A Song of Ice and Fire.”

**Author's Note:**

> Eh.
> 
> I am not sure this one is as strong as my SanSan feels. But I was itching to type a ficlet that gives feels without saying too much of anything, really.
> 
> Also, highborn ladies that marry beneath them keep their highborn names, so Robb is a Stark even though a Clegane is his father.


End file.
